


天命 {Mandate of Heaven}

by Chocolatpen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient China, Betrayal, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Class Differences, Drama & Romance, Execution, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Miscarriage, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Scheming, Torture, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: It is the end of Spring, just after a great rain, when fate leads Keiji to the wet crunching noises of an injured animal on the last legs of its life. Only, it's not an animal.It’s a man.His arm is bent in an odd direction, sinewy muscles hanging uselessly as he peers up at Keiji with unfocused, pain-hazed eyes. They still glow, as gold as the sun, under all the dirt and mud and blood.For the first time in his life, Keiji doesn’t choose to move on from the death he sees in the forest. Instead, it seems like the easiest choice in the world to fall to his knees; a bottle of medicinal herbs already popped open in his palm.When villager Akaashi Keiji rescues Bokuto Koutarou from what he believes is a hunting accident, he doesn’t expect to get sucked into the political intrigue of the Imperial City.Or: wherein everything has a price, even for heaven’s chosen son.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tanaka Saeko/Tsukishima Akiteru, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 73





	1. 一

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New year!! It's 2021!! :D
> 
> Okay, I know literally no one asked for this, but I can't help my brain!! I've been really into Chinese dramas recently. This reads kind of like [ With the Rising Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938718/chapters/18146338) because it has similar themes.
> 
>  **Please take note of the warnings.** There will be major character death and graphic descriptions of violence. I don't have a beta reader, so there will be mistakes even though I try to edit my work as best as I can. I'll be back to fix any I find!
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to update because I go back to work tomorrow and I'm really not looking forward to it :") This story was all I could think about this past week, so I hope you all enjoy it! Please leave some kudos/comments if you do <3

Life and death are absolute.

That’s the first thing anyone ever taught Keiji. It’s what he repeats to himself, hands clasped together in prayer, every time he enters the forest to hunt.

Life and death are a cycle of karma gained and lost, of divine intervention and simple coincidence cursed to continue for an eternity. Life, and how it is lived, influences the reincarnation cycle - and for the lucky few, even ascension to Godhood. At least, that’s what Keiji had been taught. It is how he can rest easy even with the mounting numbers of animals he’s shot down. His bow holds no mercy. Neither does his crude knife, but the heavens will not punish him while he stays in his station; while he takes just enough for himself and nothing more.

It is the end of Spring, just after a great rain, when coincidence finds Keiji wandering outside of his usual hunting area. It might be chance that the river overflowed; cutting off Keiji’s usual route, but it is fate that leads him to the wet crunching noises of an injured animal on the last legs of its life.

Keiji’s feet are quick and sure-footed even on slick, uneven ground; hand notching an arrow on his bow with the intention of ending the poor animal’s suffering.

Only it is not an animal. Not a deer, nor a wild dog, nor even a tiger.

It’s a man.

He’s built strong; shoulders wide in a way that is only possible for someone who has never experienced starvation. Beneath the torn tatters of his clothes, Keiji can make out long lacerations and abrasions carved into the man’s pale skin. The blood is bright, pouring fresh out of his wounds. His arm is bent in an odd direction, sinewy muscles hanging uselessly as he peers up at Keiji with unfocused, pain-hazed eyes. They still glow, as gold as the sun, under all the dirt and mud and blood.

Let life take its course. Do not interfere with heaven’s plan. It’s what Keiji has always been instructed to do.

But for the first time in his life, Keiji’s heart wavers.

For the first time in his life, Keiji doesn’t choose to move on from the death he sees in the forest. Instead, it seems like the easiest choice in the world to fall to his knees; a bottle of medicinal herbs already popped open in his palm.

It’s a close call, but Keiji manages to bring the man back from the brink of death. Just barely.

He still stays asleep for days, and then weeks, as his body repairs itself painstakingly slowly.

Keiji continues hunting and almost manages to convince himself that taking care of the injured man might not have angered the heavens. He has always been the type of person to leave animals to their inevitable fates, and yet he hadn’t been able to with this mysterious man.

Keiji ponders over his thoughts as he shoots down a stray pheasant; contemplates his doubts as he changes the man’s dressings and refreshes his linen. He wonders if it had been the way those golden eyes stared at him, familiar like the spectre of a past life.

Keiji wonders and wonders endlessly, till he is ambushed in the small straw hut he calls home.

“Who are you?”

The voice is hesitant, but deep and full like it’s used to being obeyed. Keiji has no reason to keep mum, and so whispers his name with his eyes drawn to one of his old spears that must have been pilfered out of its place in the corner.

“Yes, but what is your _family_ name?” Comes the hurried reply.

One of Keiji’s eyebrows arches at the curious question. “I don’t have one.”

Hesitation. “So you’re a commoner, then? Why am I here?”

“I found you in the woods,” Keiji replies easily, his breaths coming out longer as the man relaxes his grip. “Now tell me _your_ name.”

The man stiffens again, spear digging into the skin of Keiji’s neck just hard enough to break skin. “Koutarou.”

“Family name?” Keiji shoots back, even though his interest has already been lost. The man - Koutarou - falls silent again, and Keiji sighs. “Keep your silence, then. But put the spear down if you want some supper.”

The weapon is lowered slowly, and then all at once it clatters to the floor. A patch of dark blood seeps through the bandages around Koutarou’s torso, which coerces a frustrated huff from between Keiji’s lips. “Now look what you’ve gone and done.”

Keiji doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Koutarou, the lean muscles in his arms working as he lowers the other man to the floor. He’s still as thick as he was before, only some of that muscle mass has softened out over weeks of inactivity.

“You-” Koutarou starts, his entire body tensing at the contact, but he cuts himself off and settles back on Keiji’s straw futon with a frown wrinkling the skin between his eyes. “Fuck. What happened to me?”

“I’m not sure. You were already severely hurt when I found you. For a time, I didn’t know if you would survive.” Keiji explains, already tearing apart the bandages. He’d found it easier simply not to dress Koutarou’s upper body since his wounds were incredibly severe and required frequent changes. “There was a landslide not far from where you were bleeding out on the ground, although…”

“Although?” Koutarou grimaces as Keiji lathers on more herbs before quickly snatching a new roll of bandages from the corner of the room. His fingers are skilled as he rewraps the wound - both the size and location of it are causing some delays in recovery. The others are mostly puckered red scars now, save for the broken arm.

“Some of the wounds were suspicious, to say the least.” Keiji finally says, sitting back on his heels and wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his sleeve. “They didn’t seem like they came from a landslide.”

Koutarou nods, falling silent in his contemplation. He seems troubled, unsure. But Keiji is used to minding his own business, and so leaves to prepare food for his guest.

It’s nothing fancy. Keiji first starts a fire over under the small shelter where he keeps all his firewood, then boils down some grains in a little claypot. After that, there’s not much else to do than toss in some mushrooms he’d stumbled upon earlier in the day and a few herbs for taste.

Koutarou is still quiet when Keiji slides open the paper door.

Keiji’s little hut is really only made up of the one room; consisting of two solid wooden sides and a pair of paper sliding doors across from each other. Koutarou is staring out in the other direction, where the sliding door had been left half-ajar.

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Keiji murmurs, padding across the straw ground to place the two steaming bowls of food on a small wooden table. He raises it, then places it over Koutarou’s legs.

Koutarou doesn’t jump, even though Keiji knows that his footsteps are close to undetectable. Instead, he smiles tentatively and nods. “I’d never expect someone to live all the way out here.”

Keiji agrees.

The twilight sky outside casts a purple hue over the land, the shadows of the forest growing darker by the moment. A mountain range looms above them mere miles away, snow-capped peaks glowing in the fading light. It’s isolated out there, with the nearest town being almost half a day’s journey away, but it’s how Keiji likes it. He gets all he needs from the forest, while anything else can be bought during his monthly trips to the nearest market.

“I’m used to it,” is all Keiji says, instead, as he focuses his attention on the porridge in his bowl. “Now that you’re awake, I assume you can feed yourself?”

Koutarou makes an odd spluttering noise and turns red. The hunter ignores this in favour of picking up his spoon and shovelling the congee into his mouth. It’s still a little hot, but not enough to scald.

Out of the corner of his eye, Keiji watches Koutarou survey his wooden spoon and bowl - both things Keiji carved out of logs of wood - then sniff at the food. After a short pause, Koutarou delicately spoons some congee into his mouth.

All these weeks, Keiji has been feeding Koutarou with small spoonfuls of congee, pressed just past his lips and allowed to slide down his throat. There’s a sense of accomplishment that comes with watching Koutarou eating by himself now, instead of having to be force-fed. Maybe even relief, somewhat. Almost like successfully nursing a chick back to health.

Almost.

“It’s a little bland,” Koutarou mumbles, even as he licks his spoon clean. Keiji’s glare is murderous, and Koutarou brings up his good hand in defence. “Just add some salt, it’s not a big deal.”

“Salt is expensive,” Keiji shakes his head. The only money he has are the little copper coins he gets from the animal skins he sells in the market. Salt must cost even more than a silver ingot, which is something entirely out of his budget. Keiji stacks their bowls, before standing up and clearing the table too. “You can cook for yourself if you want to. Or better yet, stop freeloading off me and go away.”

“No, Keiji, I’m sorry,” A pitiful whine tears itself from Koutarou’s throat. It’s very similar to the ones baby wolf cubs use in play fights with their siblings, so Keiji only rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to wash these in the stream before it gets too dark.” Keiji slips on his straw sandals, balancing the bowls in one hand while he reaches out to shut the sliding door with the other. He shoots one last stern look at Koutarou before he leaves. “Rest.”

When Keiji comes back from the stream, his hair wet from a quick dip to get rid of the grime, he’s greeted by soft snores floating out of his hut.

Keiji finds himself smiling, regardless of the annoying, ungrateful man - merely a boy, on closer inspection - that has taken up all the space on the only futon he owns.

The next weeks show Keiji that almost all of his assumptions about Koutarou are wrong. There are still the oddities, of course, like ignorance beyond belief and arrogance that is entirely uncalled for.There’s also the issue of him being unable to dress himself very well. Despite all of this, Keiji finds himself endeared by Koutarou’s childish ways. He convinces himself that this new presence in his life is tolerable, if not a little enjoyable. And in many ways, it is.

Keiji has been by himself for so long that while Koutarou might be a nuisance to his daily comings and goings, he also adds joy to it in ways Keiji never expects.

The real trouble only begins when Koutarou gains enough strength to wander around Keiji’s small clearing. He’s oddly nimble, for someone who doesn’t even know how to light a candle on his own, and avoids slipping on all the muddy patches in the small clearing Keiji lives in. He almost lights _all_ of Keiji’s firewood when trying to start a fire for the first time, and he marvels at the way Keiji skins rabbits, pheasants and the odd deer.

Koutarou might seem like he has no troubles and no care in the world, but Keiji catches him in the moments when he is quiet, when it is dark, or even before Koutarou realises that Keiji has returned from his hunt. Koutarou’s eyes, even in their golden brilliance, go cold and calculating. They seem to be thinking of things beyond Keiji’s understanding, and it is in those moments that Keiji truly feels the void that exists between them.

It is in these moments, especially, that make Keiji realise how little he knows about his house guest.

Soon enough, the height of summer arrives.

The days are usually sunny and clear, but on this day in particular, the clouds gather in big, wooly bunches in the sky. They’re coloured yellow by the sun light, but Keiji isn’t fooled. They float slowly, serenely, and seem to grow with every blink of the eye. In the distance, it is dark.

Keiji knows that the air is filling, and that the rains will come when it is full.

“What are you doing?” Koutarou questions. His eyes are wide like an owl’s and golden like the clouds above.

Keiji stares a little, and then returns his attention to the straw braid in his hands. It’s mindless work, so much so that his fingers have continued working even though his thoughts have drifted away.

“I’m making new shoes.” Keiji replies, finishing off the braid with a solid knot. He points to the muddy sandals arranged neatly by the doorway. “My old ones probably only have a week of use left before they come apart.”

Koutarou’s mouth forms into a large O, and he settles down to watch Keiji work. It only takes half of another braid for him to talk again. “Why don’t you just buy real shoes?”

“The nearest town is far. It’s easier this way.” Keiji mutters, disgruntled. His sandals _are_ real shoes. He just knows that Koutarou means the fancy cloth ones they sell in the market. Koutarou must be well-to-do, like the son of a merchant or a businessman, since Keiji did find him in some very expensive-looking clothes. The memory makes Keiji perk up, and he drops the finished braid in his small completed pile before getting up.

“Where are you going?” Koutarou pouts, leaning back on his good arm. His broken one is healing well, and its cradled in his lap like a baby. The muscle mass in that arm has shrunk significantly, but it’s still thicker than Keiji’s own lean arms.

Keiji doesn’t reply. Instead, he rummages through the corner of his closet for a second before pulling out a white cloth bag. It’s knotted tightly at the top, but not very heavy at all, so Keiji drops it gently into Koutarou’s lap before sitting back down to continue with his shoe-making.

“These are your things,” Keiji explains, which prompts Koutarou to wriggle the knot undone with his good hand. “I kept it all in case you still need anything.”

It’s easy to unwrap the cloth from there, but Koutarou’s fingers come to rest on top of the package for a good moment. Keiji watches silently, fingers working deftly at his work, till Koutarou finally starts tugging at the bag.

Threadbare cloth falls apart to reveal the last tatters of beautifully embroidered navy silk. Koutarou runs his fingers across the bloodstained strips, flips through the white undergarments before his fingers still around the similarly well-sewn fabric of a golden pouch.

Keiji perks up in curiosity, his fingers finally stilling around a completed sandal. He’d taken the pouch off of Koutarou’s unconscious body, but hadn’t opened it as a sign of respect. All of it would have been buried with Koutarou in the worst case scenario.

Koutarou pulls at the string gently, almost as though he were afraid to tear it. The pouch unravels smoothly, however, and the folds relax to display the silhouette of a dragon embroidered with even lighter spun gold thread. Koutarou’s hands have begun trembling, a little, as he turns over the pouch and slowly wriggles the contents out.

Money comes spilling out, first, all over the bloody silk. There are silver ingots and gold ingots alike, small but more than Keiji has ever seen in his life. And then there’s a soft clinking noise as some small, flat white shards slide out of the pouch. Keiji recognises the pearly texture as white jade; the rarest form there is.

The sight of it seems to upset Koutarou, as his breath comes out of him in one long, shaky exhale.

Keiji watches him finger the small pieces, dragging the bigger shards together till they resemble a fractured disc. He can make out the thin, gold-dipped lines that connect together in a single word Keiji can’t place. Reading is not a part of his skillset.

“My mother gave this to me,” Koutarou mumbles. His hair droops with him, his entire body curling in on itself. It makes him look so much smaller. “Before she passed.”

Keiji shuffles closer.

Thunder rumbles softly in the distance.

“It’s my name, see?” Koutarou runs his finger along the delicate gold strokes, tracing it out so that Keiji can clearly see ‘光’ carved into the broken shards of white jade. “Kou. Light.”

Keiji purses his lips. Then, slowly, he rests a hand on Koutarou’s shoulder.

Koutarou’s head flicks upwards at the contact, his eyes big and round and so very golden as they come to meet Keiji’s.

“She named you well.” Keiji says simply. He allows himself to smile, just a little.

Koutarou, on the other hand, stares at Keiji till his eyes grow misty. He stares and stares till the tearsoverflow and drip down his face like iridescent pearls in the fading summer sunlight. It’s only then that he dips his head, turns back to the shattered remains of his most prized possession, and pushes it all away.

Afterwards, when Koutarou has worn himself out crying, Keiji carefully scoops all of the ingots and jade shards into the pouch. He pockets it carefully, cleaning up the mess of bloodied fabric as an idea blooms in his head.


	2. 二

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad y'all are liking this!! I usually plan like crazy for my fics but I decided I wanted to take this one chapter by chapter. I do have a general plan and I know how I'm ending it, but I don't want to over plan/over edit because I feel like it stresses me out too much TT.TT
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter too! The mystery deepens! <3

As they ease into Autumn, Keiji is kept busy with his preparations for the colder months. It’s a particularly daunting task this year since he has an extra mouth to feed, should Koutarou stay through the winter. It seems likely, since his arm is taking its time to heal, and Keiji prefers to be prepared.

Keiji has long become used to Koutarou’s presence. He’s learned to embrace it, even, because Koutarou’s bright personality is a soothing balm on the darkest of days and a beacon of light in the monotony of his everyday life.

This is kind of a problem, actually. Not Koutarou himself, no. The problem is the amount of food he eats.

Even injured and mostly immobile, Koutarou has a healthy appetite.

Keiji watches silently as the other man gobbles down a whole pheasant without pause. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who had been standing on the precipice of death just a season prior. Even harder, somehow, to believe that this is a life Keiji saved.

He wonders if the heavens are frowning down upon him now, for intervening in their great plan.

He wonders, belatedly, if this is all calculated for.

“Keiji, your pheasant is really the best.” Koutarou praises, lips stained with oils and herbs alike. Keiji notices how clumsy his teeth are around bones. It’s hard not to.

The flickering little bonfire between them is the only real source of light they have now that the days are growing shorter and the nights longer. The licking orange flames cast darker shadows over Koutarou’s face, the golden of his eyes catching in the brief glimmer of light.

“So juicy and tasty,” Koutarou continues, licking his fingers. “Just like-”

Keiji pretends not to notice these things - the little quirks and slip-ups. Koutarou never seems to want to elaborate, and Keiji is alright with that. He’s already had enough of sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Thank you,” Keiji says, instead, and points to the large bone in Koutarou’s hand. “There’s still meat on that.”

“How do you get it so clean?” Koutarou demands. He brings the drumstick so close to his eyes he almost becomes cross-eyed, and then tucks back into his food enthusiastically. Keiji watches him in faint amusement.

In truth, while Keiji wants very badly to maintain his distance from the mysterious man he saved, he finds himself being increasingly drawn in. It will be easier to treat him as just a stranger when they inevitably part ways - although Koutarou can barely be classified as a stranger anymore after these few months of living together.

Koutarou is like the sun. He’s bright in so many ways, ways that leave Keiji wanting for more. It’s almost like an addiction, but it’s one Keiji knows he has to be rid of. He’s intervened more than he should have already, and if there’s anything that Keiji is scared of, it’s divine retribution.

Keiji is staring at the moon when Koutarou lumbers back from washing their utensils in the nearby stream. The walk used to be hard for him - he’d trip on tree roots, and his clothes would get caught on low-hanging branches. But Koutarou is nothing if not a fast learner, and the route has become a daily routine by now.

“What are you looking at?” Koutarou asks, sitting heavily next to Keiji instead of back in his usual seat. The log creaks under their combined weight.

Keiji tilts his chin upwards, towards the sky. The moon is almost full, shrouded in a ring of wispy grey clouds. “Have you heard of the story of Chang’e?”

“Of course! Who hasn’t?” Koutarou replies animatedly, apparently happy that he knows something for once. “She’s the wife of Hou Yi, the legendary archer who shot down nine of the ten suns. The Gods gave him an immortality elixir for his service, but he refused to take it since he didn’t want to ascend to Godhood without his wife. Chang’e stole the elixir for herself, and was justly punished with an eternal exile to the moon.”

“In some accounts, Chang’e only drank the elixir when it was on the verge of being stolen by her husband’s subordinates,” Keiji says, frowning as he runs his hands up his arms. “Regardless, the Gods are harsh.”

The wind starts blowing harder, tussling his curly hair into his face. A shiver runs up his spine. It doesn’t go unnoticed, because only a moment later Koutarou is shuffling so close their shoulders brush up against each other.

“Yeah, but they’re also mercilessly fair,” Koutarou shrugs. He’s taken on a pensive tone for once, the first Keiji has heard. His streaked hair falls into his eyes, but the golden orbs seem far away. “We might be stuck in the dark one day, and under the bright light the next. Fortune is fickle that way.”

“Then,” Keiji begins, swallowing thickly. He still isn’t sure whether he should breach the subject. “Back then, in the forest. Were you scared?”

“That I’d die?” Koutarou asks, raising a thick brow. He laughs heartily, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t put on this Earth to die. Not yet, at least, and look! My luck has even brought us together.”

Keiji rolls his eyes, unfazed by Koutarou’s positive reaction. “All of us are put on this Earth to die.”

“Yeah, but fortune favours me,” Koutarou shrugs. He picks a long stick off the ground and starts prodding at the last embers dancing between crumbling charcoal. “The Gods have a plan for me, that’s all there is to it.”

Keiji never gets to ask what the plan is, specifically, because a particularly strong burst of wind topples the pots Koutarou left out to dry. It makes a big racket, scaring some owls from their perches high in the trees.

Three days later, Keiji starts on one of his sporadic trips to the market with a very satisfied Koutarou in tow. The latter has healed to the point that Keiji has no remaining excuse not to bring him along, so it is with great resignation that he finally agrees to do so.

Keiji has chosen a good day.

The sky is a clear eggshell blue, the air as crisp as the leaves crunching beneath their feet, and the forest coloured in the brilliant hues of a sunset. The stark reds and oranges twist into an arch above the worn countryside pathway, their straw-clad feet kicking up dry dust from the ground.

Koutarou’s excited chatter quickly wears down to happy humming beneath his breath. After so many months together, the pair have become used to each others’ habits and preferences - as much as Keiji might deny it - and Keiji has never been one for frivolous small talk. Instead, the atmosphere between them is quiet and peaceful. Comfortable, even.

Soon enough, the branches that seem loaded with gold and rubies give way to open sky and sprawling farmland that gleams like emeralds under the sun. Paddy fields are most common around this area, their handlers bent over at the waist with conical bamboo hats shading their faces.

“Wow,” Bokuto breathes, bright eyes scanning over the greenery. Keiji notices it the moment he spots the market on the horizon, because his mouth drops open a little in awe. The way it pops up in the middle of the fields makes it seem almost like a mirage, and it holds all the charm of a small village with its thatched huts and colourful vendors.

“It’s a small town, but we get quite the lot of goods since we’re so close to the Forbidden City,” Keiji notes. It’s one of the upsides of living close to the Imperial capital - not to mention how much more lawful it is as compared to villages further into the countryside.

“That’s pretty convenient,” Koutarou nods, absentmindedly. His eyes dart from the village, to Keiji, and back. “What do you think of the Forbidden City, Keiji? Ever want to visit?”

“I’ve been to the capital before,” Keiji hums, thinking back to his trip. It was eye-opening. He’d never seen so many people in one place before, nor so many brick-and-tile houses lining the streets. The Forbidden City - the Imperial palaces and the grounds surrounding them - had been imposing with its tall crimson walls and the golden dragons guarding each bolted door. “I’ve never seen inside the palace gates, though.”

Koutarou chuckles, but without much humour. He runs a hand through his hair, and even though his eyes are set on the village, he seems many more miles away. “Yeah, I guess that’s why it’s called the _Forbidden_ City.”

The namesake is definitely accurate. No one who isn’t meant to be there is allowed inside, although it is a great honour for maids and other servants to complete their service and make it out the doors again.

“It must be so grand, inside,” he says, and it’s the truth. It’s what he imagines the Forbidden City must be like, since it’s where the Royal family makes its home. The most blessed of all, the chosen sons and daughters, the ones gifted with the mandate of heaven. “But,” Keiji pauses, then, thinking of the high walls and the birds that fly over them, “it has to be lonely too.”

“Lonely?” Koutarou echoes. Then he laughs again, a little incredulous. “There are thousands upon thousands of servants working in the Forbidden City; guards and maids and advisors and more.”

“They’re all… stuck in there, though. Locked away from the rest of us,” Keiji shrugs, his attention trailing away from his companion and towards a stall that has a row of animal skins on display. That’s where he usually sells the coats he makes. “It must be hard to know only a world that is so small.”

Koutarou doesn’t answer, this time, but Keiji is too distracted haggling for a good price to notice.

Keiji is keeping his coins in his little money bag when he hears his name being called over the din of the market. It sounds odd, because he’s so used to it only being uttered, usually butchered, by Koutarou. He only has a moment to dwell upon it, however, because in the next a lean body comes barreling into him.

Keiji’s breath is knocked out of him in a short huff, his feet stumbling on the ground to account for the new weight latching itself on his back. Before Keiji can fall over, the weight is plucked off his back. Keiji spins around in time to see Koutarou, with an uncharacteristic frown marring his features, depositing a squirming boy onto the ground.

Keiji sighs, pinching his nose bridge before he lays a hand on Bokuto’s arm to stop him from making an even bigger scene. Then, he holds a hand out to the boy who’s still staring at them, stunned. “Yuu-san, please get off the floor.”

Koutarou looks nonplussed. He cracks his knuckles, even though one of his arms is still in a cloth sling. “You know this kid?”

“I’m not a kid!” Yuu protests, taking Keiji’s hand and springing back up on his feet. His brown hair sticks up from his head like a porcupine, while a small tuft of blonde droops into his eyes. He might look young because of his short stature, but he’s actually the same age as Keiji. “I’m Yuu, nice to meet ya.”

Koutarou nods and introduces himself as well, his eyes lingering over the dark smudges on Yuu’s skin and clothes. Yuu grins, leaving yet another dark spot when he rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

“You’re done with my order?” Keiji interjects. These two men are some of the loudest he knows, albeit the only ones, and he doesn’t like the way they’re drawing stares. He’s always preferred to keep to himself, out of the spotlight.

“Oh yes, definitely!” Yuu nods energetically, spinning on his heel and motioning for them to follow after him. He’s quick on his feet, but so are Keiji and Koutarou, and they weave through the crowd easily. “You know, this has got to be the first time I’ve seen Keiji with a friend.”

Koutarou raises a brow, and Keiji shrugs. He isn’t ashamed of the way he lives his life.

“It’s a good thing!” Yuu grins, casting a look back. He’s more preceptive than he lets on. “Maybe now he’ll finally come down from the mountains more often.”

They reach Yuu’s little shop quickly enough. There are open furnaces deeper into the store, where an old blacksmith is pounding noisily away at a glowing sword. The heat reaches them even at the entrance, chasing away the autumn chill.

While Yuu searches for his order, Keiji takes out his coin pouch again. It’s full with copper coins from selling animal skins and furs - in high demand now that the temperature is slowly dipping - but he knows that it will be empty again by the end of their trip.

“Mighty fancy, and almost impossible to fix too,” Yuu approaches, small wooden box in hand. He points to himself with his thumb. “But you’ve definitely come to the right person.”

Keiji receives the box with a small nod, before taking a peek. His eyes widen a little in appreciation.

Yuu is the best blacksmith Keiji knows of, and a trustworthy one to boot. That’s all Keiji considered while entrusting him with such an important job, and it turns out that he wasn’t mistaken. Keiji doesn’t regret coming to him for help.

Keiji might have taken a longer time simply admiring the piece, but he can feel Koutarou leaning closer in curiosity, however, so he shuts the box quickly. Keiji slips it into his pocket, nodding in satisfaction.

Yuu’s grin splits wider, undeniably confident, when Keiji looks back to him. He passes his entire coin pouch over to Yuu, who takes it, peers inside, and then gives them a thumbs up. “You’re all set.”

Keiji is so happy with Yuu’s work that he doesn’t realise that Koutarou is sulking until they’re already halfway through their journey back to Keiji’s mountainous home.

“Who was that?” Koutarou demands, his pout deepening when it becomes obvious that Keiji hasn’t noticed his change of mood. He crosses his good arm over his chest, but it seems more adorable to Keiji than anything else Koutarou might have meant. “Why’d you give him all your money?”

Keiji rolls his eyes, tugging the small box out from his inner clothing and tossing it Koutarou’s way. The latter has always had fast reflexes, even while injured, and he easily snatches the pouch out of the air.

Keiji directs his gaze away, not brave enough to watch for Koutarou’s reaction whether it be a good or bad one. He’d taken a risk, and now it’s time to find out if it’s one that had been well-calculated.

Still, Keiji stiffens when he hears Koutarou’s sharp inhale. It’s only then, with his heart stuck in his throat and his palms as sweaty as they’ve ever been, that Keiji tears his gaze away from the mountains peppering the horizon to his companion.

Koutarou’s eyes are blown wide, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

Keiji watches silently as Koutarou drags trembling fingers across shards of jade mended together with melted gold. Koutarou traces the strokes of his name, and then fingers the chain that Yuu attached to the medallion.

“The smaller pieces are all still in your pouch, back home,” Keiji says, too antsy now to keep his mouth shut. He starts fiddling with his hands, worried about Koutarou’s prolonged silence. “These are just the bigger pieces, and the- the gold is from one of your ingots. I didn’t want Yuu to fix it with just any odd material he had lying around, since it seemed so precious to you.”

Koutarou’s gaze trails from the pendant in the box to Keiji. His face is slack, and for once the burning amber of his eyes is unreadable.

Keiji swallows nervously, bowing his head so his sight is trained on the dirt path below. “I apologise if I overstepped. I couldn’t simply get rid of it because it was something your mother passed down to you. I had to try, and I hope you like it. It’s alright if you don’t, we can just-”

“Keiji,” Koutarou interrupts. Keiji’s head snaps back up, his mouth dry, but Koutarou is shaking his head as a smile slowly spreads across his features. “Thank you. Can you put it on for me?”

“Of course,” Keiji replies, stunned. He licks his cracking lips, taking the newly-made necklace between his calloused fingers.

They’re stopped at the side of the road, but there’s no-one around them for miles. The farmers have all retired this late in the afternoon; the sun a mere orb peeking just above the mountain range as it casts a golden glow on the paddy fields.

Keiji is thankful, because somehow, clasping the necklace around Koutarou’s neck seems more intimate than he expected.

They were nothing to each other mere seasons ago - and yet now the sight of Koutarou’s smile, andeven the way he grips his pendant tightly, lights a fire in Keiji. It burns him from the depths of his soul to the tips of his fingers, and it only subsides when they settle onto Keiji’s straw futon together.


End file.
